


when you know that it’s wrong (i’m already gone)

by virtuesmoirs



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, I suppose it's angst but really it's just a bit melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 22:08:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17312717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtuesmoirs/pseuds/virtuesmoirs
Summary: She fights with herself for the first five minutes because sheishappy and she knows it, she shouldn’t be crying. But it’s cold and she is human and she reminds herself that everyone cries.orWinter is approaching and Tessa is cold.





	when you know that it’s wrong (i’m already gone)

**Author's Note:**

> first time with rpf, feel weird about it but doing it anyway blah blah blah
> 
> I know it's not remotely close to half of the excellent pieces of writing already on here but hey, at least I finally published something. I heard a sad song, this happened. I would like to emphasise that she is not pining here, but nobody's life is perfect and everyone cries at some point.
> 
> thank you to anakinleias for her invaluable help, B&A for helping me through that last-minute panic, to the british army (twats) for always being there and in particular this one is for darling E - she made me listen to this _stupid_ song and got me so tangled up in my feels that this just sort of happened.
> 
>  
> 
> _tl;dr tessa's human and everyone mopes at some point_

It’s getting late by the time she climbs into bed, clad in her thickest flannel pyjamas and warmest socks. Leaning over, she plugs her phone in to charge and rests it on the opposite bedside table to where she sleeps (nobody’s side). Wriggling down till her head leaves the pillow, she rests her face on the bed and slips the edges of the duvet under her legs just as the first tear rolls down her nose. Winter is approaching and Tessa is cold.

She nuzzles her cheek into the brushed cotton sheet, and the first damp spot forms. She doesn’t let herself cry over this- _him?_ \- often. It’s surprisingly easy to be upbeat and happy during her days. She has everything she could possibly want from life ( _almost_ ) and she enjoys it. 

Her mother has found her groove properly after two decades of channelling her everything into being the skater’s supportive parent. Her father, she imagines, must be happy because when she reached out he was eager to reply. They do Christmas cards and phone calls on birthdays (on second thoughts, perhaps that indicates his discontent. She doesn’t quite have it in her to care that much.) and she likes their relationship.

Her siblings are happy and content. Jordan is engaged (her big sister is getting _married!_ ) and has reached new highs in her firm. Poppy has been joined by a little brother, is loving school and relishes coming to stay with Auntie Tess every so often. They have nights in together, _Up_ on the television and savouring knickerbocker glories under fluffy blankets (on the grey sofa, obviously).

Allie’s expecting her first baby. Jess’ children get lovelier by the hour, and send her videos every Friday ( _good morning Tess! Have a nice weekend!_ ). Kat’s quite the jetsetter and she sees Kelly often for events, always pleased to spend time with someone who makes her laugh so.

Scott…Scott is happy ( _she thinks_ ). They go for breakfast every fortnight, treating each other alternately. She tries everything on the menu, he sticks to pancakes ( _I want to try other things but…pancakes, Tess_ ). It’s the polar opposite of how they have always been, in that sense. She likes things just so, he’s up for change. She _liked_ things just so, he _was_ up for change.

If she has had a bad week, and sometimes she tells him but mostly he just knows, he wordlessly switches their plates.

Sometimes they skate, too. Mostly in Ilderton because ice time is easiest to come by that way ( _it isn’t quite nepotism, Tess, and it gets us empty ice so don’t argue_ ), and it’s mostly stroking around the rink combined with a few step sequences that have stuck with them the best over the years. She loves to race him from one end to the other, like they’re seven and nine and the hockey lot are late for their slot and they’ve got free ice, just the two of them, after forty-five minutes of skating together. Scott Moir is the best skater she has ever known - and she has known a lot of skaters - but she can still beat him, here on home ice. 

It’s funny how she feels warmest in an ice rink. 

But, as she said, the tears don’t happen often. Even when the slight ache just south of her right waist sets in, nestled closely above her hipbone, she doesn’t cry. The position of the ache is terrifyingly reminiscent of where their assured hands would rest on her in Kilian hold, in rink after rink, country after country. It makes her knees want to bend and push into a pattern, all deep edges and sounds of blades on ice. She feels it acutely but the ache makes her want to dance with him, not cry.

Every so often she feels the need, like everyone does, to let it all out. She tried setting a timer - 15 minutes before a phone interview about initiatives for Girls in Sport - but her eyes remained stubbornly dry and she ended up rolling her eyes at herself and scrolling through their tag on Instagram instead. A drawing of Mahler sends a chill down her spine and brings tears to her eyes but by then it is too late, and the phone is ringing. 

She lets it come organically now. No point in forcing it, nor tainting the happiest of memories just for half an hour of self-care tears. She fights with herself for the first five minutes because she _is_ happy and she knows it, she shouldn’t be crying. But it’s cold and she is human and she reminds herself that everyone cries.

It’s a big cry this evening. She has felt it building up all day, the knot in her chest tightening and the ache at her right waist worsening. The weather is turning; the last cottage visit for the summer is in the rearview mirror, her swimsuits have been rotated in her wardrobe for her scarves, only one pair of sunglasses sits on her dresser. She was a step behind in all three of her meetings today. She stupidly ran out of tampons. Her eggs had gone off and she had used up her last HelloFresh meal the night before. Period houses are beautiful but cold, fluffy socks and thermals notwithstanding.

She sometimes lets her mind drift to the _what ifs_ , doesn’t consider it unhealthy. The mind wanders and it’s only natural. The imaginings certainly don’t make her cry; she reckons they’d be in a good place now. It’s not that they are in a bad place as it stands (there truly has been worse, she knows), but she also knows that she will always crave more. Early mornings made up for with cosy evenings in, more ice time than they have now, fingers tangled in napes of necks, perhaps tiny fingers and tiny toes. Thoughts of one small hand in hers and one in his warm her from the inside out; they are her favourite _what if_ to entertain on the coldest of nights.

She is beyond finding fault in herself for how things have turned out. Time has passed and there’s no damn point when she is happy, almost all of the time. She reminds herself that that has never happened before in her life, with the exception of 2018, and that if she is living close to how that year felt then she really cannot ask for more.

But it’s cold, and there are no tiny toes pressed up against her for warmth, no strong arms wrapped around her but her own.

Those arms curl around herself, pressure on her abdomen to stave off the shaking, whether from the cold or tears she cannot say. The cold fingertips of her left hand dig into the ache just below her right waist, one half of the two that once there rested. Chin tucked into her chest, she cries and cries and cries.

It is cold and at the end of the day, she is alone.

**Author's Note:**

> title from Already Gone by Sleeping at Last
> 
> any thoughts on this would be so greatly appreciated!! 
> 
> tessa, lovely, if you've read this far i'm so sorry but also you're a badass and i love you a lot


End file.
